


Perfect Bond

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alpha/Omega, Multi, Omega Verse, Polyamory, Reader-Insert, Universe typical attitudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Mycroft and Greg are two bonded Alphas. What happens when the universe forces an Omega on them?
Relationships: Greg Lestrade/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first omega verse story. Please be gentle! Also (as all reader-insert stories are) this is at least 80% self-indulgence.

When you come to, you find yourself panting hard, a strange smell overwhelming your ability to think. You feel around on the floor, a strange, rough carpet under your fingers. Something feels off. As you move your head, a sharp pain shoots through you from your neck and the implications hit you like a stab to your brain. You reach up with shaking fingers, gliding over your shirt, which feels tacky and wrong. As they reach your neck… right where…

“No….” you stammer. “No…”

The bonding gland. It’s been pierced. By someone. You don’t even know…

A low growl emanates from your left and you open your eyes as you turn your head, still lying on your back. You jump in shock despite the pain, scrambling upwards until your back hits a solid wall behind you. Hands feel it, more out of instinct than curiosity. Polished wood. Around you, a tastefully arranged office. But you only have eyes for the pair in front of you.

Two men, one cradling the other. The growl came from the one awake, sitting upright, with the second drawn up in his arms. He has silver hair and his brown eyes sparkle with anger and confusion. You stare at each other, hot and cold sensations running down your spine. Did he…? No, his mouth is clean. The other man, however… there are red stains on the back of his blue-hued shirt. On the left side too…

“How?” you manage.

The answer is another growl, but it’s not overly menacing. No teeth, no aggression. The man seems to try and compose himself. You try the same. Daring to break eye contact for a moment, you take stock of your own body. Your shirt is bloodstained, and so are your hands. There’s no mistake. You’ve bonded. There’s a buzz in your veins that wasn’t there before.

A sharp bolt of pain forces you to the ground again. You sob as you instinctively reach for the open wound, but touching it is just making it worse. Just then there’s a sigh on the other side. Your eyes meet again with the silver haired man, only now he’s curiously silent, eyes you with an inexplicable expression. Then he lowers his head and your eyes widen as you see him close his lips over the bloody bond bite of the other man.

“Why does he have….” you start, and just then the fantastic reality filters through your mind.

A perfect match. The only type of bond where the omega also bites the alpha. A one in a million chance of matching so perfectly that your biology takes over your body and forces the two parties to bond. That’s why you can’t remember. That’s why…

The silver haired man looks up, his lips now bloodstained after all. He carefully places the other man on the floor and you see his face for the first time. Gentle features, an aristocratic nose, short, dark brown hair. You suddenly long to see his eyes. The other man crawls over the floor towards you, stops a few inches from your body. You should feel crowded and threatened, but your body is curiously relaxed.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice low and calming.

You nod. It does.

“I can help, if you let me.”

He sticks out his tongue. It clicks. Covered with the other’s… your bondmates… It would help. But for that he’d have to lick… and… you breathe in deeply. There’s no mistaking it.

“Alpha…” you whisper. But the wrong one. This is unheard of. Letting a strange Alpha take care of the bite. But it hurts, and…

He sighs, sits back and draws his shirt over his head. On the left side of his neck is a scar. You blink confusedly. So…

“Yes, we’re both Alphas. We bonded years ago. Let me help you.”

You nod, close your eyes as he crawls forward. Gentle fingers draw down the cloth of your shirt. You wince as the wound is exposed. Your eyes meet for a fleeting moment before he leans in, steadying hands on your shoulders. The first touch of his tongue stings, but the second is already less painful. So it’s true. The chemicals in your bondmate’s blood numb the pain of the bondbite. Any pain, if you’re a perfect match, if the fairytales are to be believed. He’s transferring the chemicals to your body, gently licking along the wound. You feel yourself getting drowsy in a good way. The tension seeps from your body with the pain.

Finally you fall into his arms. He holds you as gently as he did his… you look up and your eyes meet.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

He chuckles, then, unexpectedly.

“I know. I’m sorry too,” he says.

He leaves you, crawls back to the other man. You want to avert your eyes, the moment too intimate as he bows over and applies his lips once more, numbing the pain with your blood. But you can’t look away. You can’t… Your hand is on the silver haired man’s arm before you can stop yourself. He looks up, and his eyes are soft. You swallow. In this close proximity the scent of the unconscious man is too much for you. Your hands shake.

“I need…” you manage to say.

In that moment the eyes of the man beneath both of you shoot open. He releases a groan, his arms jerk.

“Mycroft!” the other shouts.

He gets thrown off, flung on his back and you have no chance to even check if he’s hurt, as the man named Mycroft grabs you and suddenly he’s looming over you. Your vision blurs as the scent fills your nose and all at once the only thing you can think about is getting as close as you possibly can. Just as Mycroft moves forward, you lean in as well and soon you’re wrapped around each other, your mouth on each other’s necks. You’re alternatively sucking on the wound and licking up the blood, just as you feel him do the same to you. It doesn’t hurt now. It’s mostly numb, but the dull sensation spreads through your body as a warm shiver.

It feels so good. So good. You never want to stop. The taste is sweet on your tongue, sometimes sharp. It’s addictive. You’re lost in the feeling until you feel Mycroft still. And then you hear it too. A loud sob.

All of a sudden your arms are empty.

“Darling, my dear, my love…” a whisper, over and over. “I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”

Mycroft is holding the other man, kissing him in between murmured declarations of love. 

“Gregory please, believe me… I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

“My…” the other cries. “Don’t leave me.”

“I will never. Never!”

They kiss desperately, smeared with blood. It’s heartbreaking to see. The warm feeling deserts you. Your neck doesn’t hurt anymore, but your heart does. You turn away, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. There’s a chair nearby, and you use it to draw yourself up on shaky legs. Out. Away. This is all wrong. Wrong. Wrong!

You manage to walk halfway to the door when it opens. A woman steps in, her expression horrified. Your eyes meet. Anthea. Right. You were scheduled for lunch. She was late, for once in her lifetime. Asked you to wait at her desk. The rest is blank. 

“Get out!” a voice booms behind you.

A figure rushes past, pushes her out physically, slams the door. You hear it lock, then he turns around and your knees buckle. His eyes are too intense. Is that what an Alpha gaze feels like? Your Alpha’s? No… no, he isn’t… he’s…

“Who are you?” he asks. Probably doesn’t even realise he’s putting the weight of his Alpha scent behind it.

“Frie… friend’s of Anthea…” you manage. “Lunch…”

Mycroft’s expression is searching.

“Omega,” he says, finally. “Perfect match.”

You nod. This is nothing like the romance films make it out to be. No romantic confessions, the sweet scent of two destined partners. No courting, no choice. A whiff of the scent was all it took. You had bitten each other without even realising what your bodies were doing. He seems to realise that too.

The short interlude with the door seems to have cooled everyone down a bit, so you look at him properly for the first time. Tall, lanky, he stands in front of you in a dove grey suit trousers and waistcoat, light blue shirt stained with drying blood from the wound at his neck. It seems to have stopped bleeding for now, as has yours, but the cloth is torn where your teeth have ripped through it, topmost buttons ripped open. Your tongue runs along your lips and you taste his blood on them.

Then he gestures at an armchair on the other side of the sizable office. You take the hint, wobble over on uneasy feet. It’s good none of them help you. You don’t know if you could keep a level head so close to the scent. It’s distracting enough as it is.

“Gregory, would you get something to clean?” Mycroft asks and the other nods, eyes you wearily for a moment before disappearing through a door, through which you can glimpse a small bathroom.

“You’re Anthea’s boss,” you say.

“I am. You are?”

“I teach the drawing class Anthea takes on Friday’s, among other things…”

Mycroft hums as he eyes you again, and you feel laid bare under his gaze, and even though it’s clinical, you feel heat rising through you.

“The mechanics of a perfect match bond are clear to you?” he asks, then, as if this was a lecture.

“Only from films…” you mumble.

“Not at all, then.”

Gregory reappears, then. He places a small bowl of steaming water on the table in front of you, takes a small towel from it, wrings it out. He turns towards Mycroft, when the man shakes his head and gestures towards you instead. Gregory seems for a moment like he’ll be making an argument, then he turns towards you. Mycroft takes a seat in the opposite armchair, across the small table.

“Your shirt,” Gregory prompts.

For a moment you don’t know what he wants, but then it clicks. It hurts pulling it off where the blood has made the fabric cling to your skin, but you manage, ruined thing dropping to the floor. You look down at yourself. The blood has run down your chest, bra equally as ruined. Gregory cocks an eyebrow and you remove it too. What does it matter now, anyway?

With careful motions, Gregory applies the warm, wet towel to your back first. It feels weirdly wonderful and you close your eyes at the sensation.

“The perfect bond mechanics and recommendations, as laid down in medical research, are as follows: Perfect bonds are one in a million. Bondmates have to stay together at all times for at least 3-4 weeks until the bond is settled. The only thing that can heal a perfect bondbite are the chemicals in their bondmates body fluids. Failure to keep them together until it’s healed will almost always result in the death of both parties.”

You swallow. Gregory has taken your left arm, gently cleaning the skin, saying nothing.

“A perfect bond results in a heat that starts a few hours after the bite and lasts at least a week, with smaller ones happening on and off for months after. The Omega will not be able to leave the nest for about six months, or until it is ascertained that no heats will follow. Heats of a perfect bond Omega trigger heats in fellow omegas nearby, which is why they can’t be allowed outside.”

Gregory has reached your front. You don’t mind him touching you, cleaning even your breasts. He’s considerate, careful. Your eyes meet for a moment and you’re surprised to see an apology in them. For what?

“There’s one last thing: Neither of the perfect bondmates is legally allowed to sue the other for the bond itself, since neither is of sound mind when it happens. Do you understand?”

“How do you know all of that?” you ask.

“It’s his job to know everything, darling,” Gregory says and your body flushes with pleasurable warmth at the endearment.

“Do you under—”

“I understand,” you reply, a bit too forceful.

Gregory lets the washcloth drop into the water, a red mist suffusing it. He wipes his hands on his jeans, then holds one out. You take it, cautiously.

“Greg Lestrade,” he says. “Alpha. Mycroft’s bonded partner.”

“Alpha’s don’t…” you mumble, feeling stupid when he smiles.

“Usually not. I just couldn’t stay away from  
him. I’m sorry. Looks like you’re stuck with both of us.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft gives you a curious look. You can’t decipher it at all. Greg is easier to read. You sigh deeply. A noise rips you from your thoughts and belatedly you realise it’s someone’s mobile. Mycroft picks up and after a look back excuses himself into a smaller, adjacent room. You are left alone with Greg, who looks you up and down.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks.

“Yes. Not as much, but getting stronger.”

“You think I could help too? Mycroft and I are bonded after all. There are similarities now.”

For a moment you stare. “You would do that?”

“If you let me. I’d do it eventually, to share the burden. I told you… we’re a package. There’s no way around that.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologise. You don’t need to be sorry for something that’s not your fault.”

You clench your hands to fists. It doesn’t matter that you’re not at fault. It feels like it anyway.

“Alright. You may,” you relent.

Greg nods. He kneels down in front of your chair, leaning in to nose at your neck. He breathes in deeply, cursing immediately afterwards. He draws back.

“You’re going into heat. If I taste you now…”

“Then wait,” Mycroft says from the doorway. “Transport has been arranged. It’s admirable you’re trying to help, but no one will be helped if you go into rut now.”

Greg stands up. He nods. Mycroft walks over to him and gives him a gentle kiss. Greg sighs and digs his fingers into Mycroft’s fresh shirt. They whisper something to each other, share an embrace. Then Greg leaves the room.

“Anthea put a few supplies out there,” Mycroft explains, and sure enough Greg returns with a plastic bag.

Mycroft grabs a pack from it and gestures for you to hold still. A few minutes later, he has bandaged you and Greg has bandaged him. There’s a patch on both of you, which is supposed to keep the pheromones at bay. Hopefully. Then it’s time to leave. You get up to walk, but Mycroft holds you back.

“No. I can’t.. It’s too unsafe. I need you to be close.”

Confusion for a moment, then he draws you up into his arms. The Alpha scent envelops you. Already it feels like home, like the ultimate safety. Greg smells like this too, only a bit less strongly. You accept your fate and bury your face in his shoulder and he makes a satisfied noise. One thing you can count on is the dynamic. Alphas will always protect their Omegas, no matter how the bond was created.

“Anthea says the way is clear,” Greg says, who is on the phone with her now.

Mycroft nods and starts walking. The corridors are indeed empty, no one visible not even in the far corners. As you walk, Mycroft holds you so close it’s almost painful. Still, it feels good. Protective. Safe. You know nothing about this man, who has suddenly become your lifeline… and you have become his.

The transport is a scent secure van usually used for unplanned heat transports. The three of you sit in the back in a sealed environment. Mycroft and Greg sit on either side of you like guards. As the van starts moving, you lose your balance and fall into Mycroft’s side. He responds by putting an arm around you.

“What do you do despite teaching drawing?” Greg asks after you’ve sat in silence for a while.

“I write. History books… and historical mysteries. Not the most well known author, but I get by.”

“That’s fascinating,” he muses. “I adore historical novels. Though I don’t thank I’ve read anything by you yet.”

“I write under a pen name…” you say and tell it to him.

Greg’s mouth falls open. “The Sugar Wars? That was your series? Mycroft! That’s the one you recommended to me!”

“The universe works in mysterious ways…” Mycroft says, but he seems intrigued.

Suddenly a flash of heat rises up through your body and you bend over, groaning half in pain, half… aroused. Not yet. Not in the car… It’s not safe here. It’s not—

“Stay with me. We’re almost there!” Greg says, yet his hands, which were meant to be helpful, only make you ache more.

“I can’t…” you groan. “It hurts!”

The pleasurable ache is already there. The buzz of arousal, the empty feeling. The itch. You’ve spent many heats alone. You know how it goes. It’s not ideal to be alone, but manageable. Now, however, with the scent of two Alphas close, it is unbearable. It must be torture for them too. Mycroft envelopes you in his arms.

“I can make it better. Temporarily. Will you let me touch you?”

His voice sounds strained, yet he talks reasonably. Almost polite, even. You shudder. Touch? Does he mean—

“Yes. There,” he cuts off your thoughts. “It’ll probably settle you for a moment while we go into the house.”

“Alright…” you say. “It hurts too much.”

Mycroft draws you up onto his lap, your back to his chest. As he reaches around you, slips a hand into your trousers, it hits you for the first time. It’s been implied for a while, but only now it truly sinks in: You’re going to sleep with him. Both of them. For days. You shiver as his fingers reach lower, under your pants and easily reach the place between your legs.

“So wet…” Mycroft breathes into your ear. “Oh god…”

Has he never had an Omega before? You want to follow that thought, but then he finds your clit and starts rubbing. The reaction is explosive. Your whole body convulses. The sensation shoots through you, head to toe like electricity. You moan shamelessly, not able to stop it and push your body into his hands. You barely realise Greg kneeling in front of you, pushing up your shirt. His mouth is on your breasts, licking the sweaty skin, panting. His lips find your nipple and he sucks it into his mouth. It’s too much. It doesn’t even take much more. You’re coming around nothing, clenching, shaking. Mycroft holds you down, just as Greg holds your legs. It’s overwhelming, being held like this.

He was right. It doesn’t solve the problem, but it takes away the urgency. Only now do you realise that the car had stopped.

“No one will care what we look like,” Mycroft says. “This is a heat transport for a reason. We go directly into the house. The storage should be stocked for at least two weeks.”

“I’ll take her,” Greg volunteers and picks you up.

You’re grateful. In your state you wouldn’t be able to walk two steps. The van has stopped directly in front of the door. One breath of fresh air and already the door is locked behind you. All three of you breathe easier. Then Mycroft turns his gaze on you. It’s almost feral.

“Bedroom. Now.”


	3. Chapter 3

Your feet haven’t touched the floor in this house yet. Greg carries you up the stairs and directly into a large bedroom. A four poster bed with drawn back curtains welcomes you and he places you on the edge of it. Behind him you can see Mycroft in the doorway, holding onto the frame. He’s sweating, wiping his forehead.

“Gregory…” he manages to push out.

Greg doesn’t look less affected, but he steps back and looks at Mycroft.

“Yes?”

“I have to check the house again. Make sure it’s secure.”

“I know. You won’t be able to settle without doing the round. I won’t be able to either…”

“You stay with her. And… ask her.”

Greg nods and Mycroft is gone. They really are bonded. No Alpha in their right mind would leave their Omega with another Alpha like this. The trust between them must be implicit.

“Undress. You’ll feel better that way. I’ll turn the heating up to comfortable.”

Greg turns away. You can see he isn’t unaffected, his trousers tenting obscenely. A shot of heat goes through you at the mere thought of it… of being knotted. The toys won’t compare. You reach for your ruined shirt and pull it off. The bra has been left somewhere in Mycroft’s office for the cleaning staff to find. After a moment’s hesitation you drop the rest of your clothes and look up to find Greg on his knees in front of you. He places both hands on your thighs and nudges your knee with his nose.

“Ask me what?” you prompt him.

“If you’re on birth control. And give you this irregardless.”

“I am. Every Omega is. Precaution,” you reply and take the small flask. “This is to make sure, I suppose?”

“A very strong emergency contraceptive. To be administered in… well, less than ideal heat situations.”

“Any side effects?”

“Mild enough to not be noticeable beneath the heat reaction. Headaches, mostly.”

You shrug and down the contents.

“We’ve also taken something on the way over. It’s not only on you,” he explains, then nudges your knee again. “May I?”

You look down. The knot is already cautiously forming at the base of his cock, but that’s not what he’s asking. You nod. With your legs hanging over the edge of the bed, Greg leans in and breathes in deeply. A guttural moan escapes him that goes directly into your core. Then his tongue makes contact with your skin. The inside of your thigh. There’s slick everywhere. He carefully laps it up, then speeds up, cleaning you thoroughly. The noises he makes are at least as delicious as he must find you. Your head is thrown back and your hands are fisted in the blanket.

“Please…” you plead.

“Yes?”

“Your tongue… please…”

He doesn’t tease you much further, possibly because he seems even more desperate than you now. He dives in and sucks your clit into his mouth. Luckily his arms are over your legs and he holds you down… because apparently he lacks the patience to go slow. He sucks at you like he’s determined to get you off in seconds and he’s not that far off.

Then the bed dips. Mycroft is back. He looks down at you in wonder, then his gaze travels to Greg. His hand wanders lower until it reaches his head and he presses him into you. Hard. Greg moans against you and redoubles his efforts. Just then Mycroft claims your mouth and you’re coming between them. You feel the rush of slick flowing out of you over Greg’s face. Mycroft pulls him up and pins him on the bed. Greg is shivering underneath him while Mycroft licks the fluids from his face, moving their bulges against each other.

“Let me fuck you after you fuck her,” Greg breathes against Mycroft. “I need to knot you.”

“We’ve never… Not like this…”

“We’ve done it before, partially. Please. I need to be inside you. I want to see you locked between us, fucking and getting fucked until you can’t move.”

Mycroft groans at that and gives Greg another kiss. “Yes. Yes, anything for you my love.”

They undress each other in front of your eyes. You swallow as you see them completely for the first time. Finally Greg carefully peels off Mycroft’s bandage. The wound is still tender, bleeding lightly. He closes his mouth around it and licks it clean, Mycroft moaning softly as he does it, both their cocks jumping, rubbing together.

“Can I…” you start, almost afraid to interrupt the moment.

“Yes.”

Mycroft sits in front of you and removes your bandage as well. The bite wound stings as the material is removed. After a slight nod he leans in and licks it. With every carefully applied caress, it hurts less and less. You sigh contently, but only for a moment. The absence of pain only serves to make the arousal grow more prominent. Mycroft smells… he smells so right.

“Please, I need…” you swallow. “I need you.”

“Yes,” he replies, but not without looking back at Greg for a moment.

You lie back and open your legs. There’s no need for lube, your slick has already drenched the blanket. Mycroft breathes faster as he lines himself up, excitement and anxiety on his face. Then he pushes in the tip. It’s… indescribable. Warm, hard, yet soft and giving. Already it’s different from and better than any toy you ever tried. He’s shivering. You realise he’s holding himself back out of consideration. You place your hands on both of his arms.

“It’s alright. I won’t break.”

Mycroft releases a shuddering breath. Then he pushes in fully, in one swift movement. The sensation immediately takes your thoughts offline. You clench around his cock just to feel it being there. Right there. That empty ache finally filled. You throw your head back and almost shout. Your fingernails dig into his skin.

He starts moving without asking again. He’s so thick… so… You can’t think anymore. There’s only this, the slide, the fullness. The heat. Skin against skin, sweat and slick. He’s panting, eyes screwed shut. Then you feel it. The knot is forming, bumping against you insistently. You’ve had knot toys before, but this? It’s a bit frightening but your body overrules your mind. You need it. You need it now.

“Mycroft… please…” you gasp and his eyes fly open. 

You stare at each other for the first time since he’s entered you, and even more heat flashes through your body. His skin is red from exertion, his eyes blown and wide, his lips bitten red.

“Beautiful…” you whisper and he cries out.

With one forceful push the knot enters you and instantly triggers both of your orgasms. You convulse under him, clenching around the knot. Finally. Finally you feel full! Nothing else could’ve ever achieved this. It’s too much and exactly right at the same time. Mycroft has collapsed on you, shaking as he is milked, shouting through his climax. Heat floods your insides. You fall into each other's arms, clinging close. You’ll be locked together anyway. 

Mycroft has barely calmed down when his cock twitches inside you again. He squirms. You look up and see Greg behind him and from the motions he makes, he’s already deep into Mycroft with his fingers. Mycroft’s face screws up in pleasure.

“I need to be inside you before the knot forms. I can’t force it in. You’re not an Omega,” Greg says.

“Just fuck me,” Mycroft growls.

He gets on his hands and knees as well as he can while you’re still connected. The shifting knot presses against you and suddenly you’re coming again, cursing. It’s a vile loop. As soon as you’re clenching, Mycroft is cursing with you, another spurt of semen rushing out of him.

“Fuck… Gregory…”

“Yes, yes, darling.”

You can feel Greg’s motions though Mycroft’s shivering muscles. He pushes in slowly, remains there, merely rocking back and forth. It’s not forceful, it’s barely there, but Mycroft loses it. He’s moaning shamelessly above you, tears forming in his eyes. He looks like he’s in pain, but he just whispers more and more and more…

“Oh fuck, Mycr— I—”

And then he screams. Mycroft buries his face in the crook of your neck and bites down on the open wound, desperately panting around it, sucking at the blood. You can't move. You can’t do anything but take it, the pain triggering another weak orgasm.

“I’m… I’m…” Greg stammers. His arms wrap around Mycroft’s torso. “Oh god…”

An Alpha, knotting another Alpha. I didn't even know this could work. It’s usually impossible. The knot will only form with an Omega in heat. Yet here I am and here they are. Mycroft’s eyes fill with tears.

“Finally…” he whispers and lets out a sound which is half laugh, half sob. “Finally you claimed me properly.”

“Mine…” Greg growls.

Soon after Mycroft’s knot deflates and he slips out of you. The rush of the liquid is weird. The bed must be ruined now. But all you can feel is relief. The itch is gone for the moment and calm settles over you. Mycroft and Greg roll over to the side, away from you, still locked together. For a moment you feel unsure. The intruder, again. Then Mycroft opens his arms and you slip into them with a sob.


	4. Chapter 4

You wake when a ripple of heat washes over you from head to toe. You’re lying on your right side, there’s a body plastered to your back and an erection digging almost painfully into you. A mouth is on your neck, soothing the ache in your bite. Your brain is still partially offline and the rest of you is already drowning again.

Everything is filthy. Slick, cum, sweat everywhere. At this very moment it doesn’t matter. You moan when you feel the cock being rubbed between your cheeks. A rush of slick slips out of you. You turn on your stomach and raise your hips while your head and arms stay on the bed, presenting yourself.

A low growl and then Mycroft is shifting, moving behind you. There’s no hesitation this time. He slides in easily, and as he bottoms out, you both breathe a sigh of relief. When he moves, he does so almost leisurely, dragging his half formed knot deeply across all the spots which make you feel floaty. Both of you are groaning constantly, reveling in the feeling. 

After a while he grabs your hips a bit more tightly and slams in all the way, which makes you gasp and cry out in pleasure. With his body flush against yours, buried as deeply as he can be, he reaches around and finds your clit with his fingers. You convulse on contact, almost throwing him off. He grumbles and twists both of you, so you’re lying on the side on the bed, with him still buried deep. With one hand he’s between your legs, drawing circles, the other is at your throat, holding your head back so that it rests against his shoulder. His legs have tangled with yours, so that you’re effectively completely immobile.

You clench around him in response to his rubbing and he pants in your ear as his knot is growing steadily inside you. It’s different this way. You can feel it inflating, growing bigger and bigger, the pressure getting more intense. It’s not the explosive impact as if the knot is forced in at once, rather a steady climb which makes you unable to focus on anything else. Almost anything else. Mycroft uses that very moment to squeeze your throat in a gesture almost as possessive as his growl and that’s it—between his hands and the knot inside you, you’re coming, ineffectively shaking in his grasp, hands clutching at nothing, struggling in vain.

“Yes, yes…” he breathes into your ear and then you feel him pulse again, filling your insides. “Fuck…”

As the sensation of your orgasm fades and you’re both once more reduced to the occasional twitch while you wait to separate, Mycroft leans his face against your head and wraps his arms around you. It’s so tender, so loving that your heart stops. The sex is one thing. It’s a biological imperative you can’t escape. This? This feels different. You press closer to him, then—because it’s right there—kiss his hand. He makes a sound that’s between a deep sigh and a quiet sob. Then, with his free hand, he follows the line of your body, from your shoulder down your side and back up again, several times. It’s calming. It feels reassuring, in a way.

“I’m sorry I don’t really know what to say,” he whispers. “It must be hard for you. I have Gregory to calm me down. I can be like this because he’s here and I trust him with my life. You, on the other hand, don’t have anyone here.”

“I don’t even know where I am…” you say and your voice is shaking slightly. “Not that it matters to this stupid body of mine.”

He holds you closer and kisses your ear. “You're in my house in Mayfair. Well, our house. Gregory lives here as well. I suppose you will live here too, at least for the coming months.”

“And my classes? My work?”

“Has to be done from here. There are legal securities in these cases. There are precedents. No one can fire you or claim damages, since this is out of your control.”

“Out of my control seems about right…” you mumble.

“Out of mine too. I’m not used to being out of control.”

You ponder all of this for a moment. What can you do now? Nothing, at least not now…

“We’ll be helpless until the heat is over. We can at least try to enjoy it.”

Mycroft twitches inside you at your words.

“If nothing else, this has shown me that I’m not entirely as opposed to women as I’ve previously thought…”

His hand wanders up your body again and reaches your breast. You groan as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh, massaging it. Then he finds your nipple and rolls it between his fingers. It’s electrifying. The feeling travels low immediately and you twitch around him.

“That good?” he asks.

“I— Fuck… I could come from this alone…”

“Is that so?”

Suddenly both his hands are on you, pinching, pulling hard. Combined with the knot inside you, so much so soon is entirely too much. You cry out and come around him, tears in your eyes. He follows you over, releasing himself once more with a choked off moan and then he deflates completely, pulling out.

“Let me, before you clean up?” another voice asks from the door. Greg is there with a tray full of drinks, which he sets aside on the bedside table.

You nod, not sure what he has in mind, but currently down with pretty much anything. He slides up the bed to lick at the fluids between your legs, sighing contently.

“You taste so good mingled together…”

It tingles where he licks, and you feel yourself grow hot again. A fresh rush of slick drips out of you and Greg makes a surprised noise.

“Sorry…” you mumble.

“Nothing to be sorry for, love. Can I knot you too?”

Your instinct is to look to Mycroft, but he shakes his head. “Don’t ask me. You have to decide for yourself.”

“Yes. Yes, please knot me,” you say.

Greg smiles. He goes up on his knees and gives himself a few strokes. Mycroft sits up against the headboard and you move between his legs to sit with your back to his chest. He leans his head down to kiss you, just as his fingers find your nipples once more. Greg makes an undefined sound and then lines himself up. He feels different. Not as thick, but curved slightly more, hitting other spots inside you. He moves in a gentle rhythm, panting lightly. Over your head, their mouths meet in a long kiss.

When Greg forces his knot in, he’s almost silent, just an aborted grunt escapes him. When he comes, he’s equally quiet, his face screwed up like he’s in pain. The heat of his cum is indescribable inside you. Mycroft makes an appreciative noise and tugs at your nipples again, triggering another orgasm. This time Greg collapses on you, cursing, panting, as he is milked.

“Bastard,” he says affectionately.

You don’t have to see Mycroft’s face to know how smug he has to look right now.

“Your bastard.”

Greg shakes his head and looks down at you. “No, our bastard.”

Then he takes his thumb to your clit and Mycroft once again brushes against your nipples in an effort to see how many times they can make you come before Greg slips out again.


End file.
